


liability

by placeless



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, everyone smokes, except jisoo, hansol is highkey suicidal & jokes about it far too much, i just like to write angst, jeonghan is trans because i love that headcanon, jihoon has an eating disorder but it's not that focused on, jisoo's a child of jesus, jun is just here for the music, seungcheol's an abusive prick, someone will probably be an alcoholic sooner or later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-10-20 23:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10673319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placeless/pseuds/placeless
Summary: jihoon knows that seungcheol's bad for him, he just can't bring himself to say it out loud





	1. electric

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written in ten millennia but here i am, back at it again with an angsty fic

“you’re not okay,” jisoo tells jihoon, sitting cross-legged in the school’s field. jun is playing the guitar next to him, humming a song, while the football team yells in the distance. “you can’t look at your arms and _not_ tell me that you’re not okay.”

jihoon is lying down, squinting at the sky. it’s a hot day but he’s wearing a long-sleeve, the right sleeve pulled up for jisoo to inspect the purpling bruise swallowing his forearm and the cigarette burns digging into his wrists.

“maybe i’m not okay, but i’ll _be_ okay,” jihoon sighs, flicking jisoo’s hands away and pulling down his sleeve. “really, he’s just in a bad mood.”

mingyu barks out a laugh from next to him. _“bad mood_ my ass,” he says, taking a drag from his cigarette, “you’ve been saying that for the past six months.”

jihoon sits up and snatches the cigarette from him, taking a puff. he taps it, watching the ashes fall into the grass. “he’ll get better,” he reasons, “he’s great when he’s not in a mood. it’ll work out.”

mingyu snorts, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lighting it. “yeah. keep telling yourself that, jihoon.”

they stay silent for awhile, jihoon and mingyu puffing on their cigarettes, jisoo waving the air around him — god forbid his parents find out his friends smoke — and jun humming radiohead, strumming his guitar.

the silence is ruined by a loud, “hey, losers,” as wonwoo jogs over, covered in sweat from football practice. he plops down next to mingyu and starts to kiss his neck. jisoo throws a blade of grass at them.

“get a freaking room, you two.”

“nah,” wonwoo says, taking a break to flash a grin. “what’re you guys doing over here, anyway? p.e.’s fun.”

mingyu snorts. “it’s only fun for you, babe. you look good sweaty — the rest of us look like a bunch of dumpster divers.”

wonwoo grins, teeth sharp. “you think i look good sweaty? in that case, i’ll be sure to work out before sending nudes from now on.”

“we don’t need to know about you guys’ sex lives,” jihoon says, rolling his eyes. “we’re here because jisoo is convinced seungcheol’s abusive, mingyu wanted a smoke break, and jun — well, jun just wanted to play guitar." 

“i have to agree with jisoo for once,” wonwoo says, raising his eyebrows, “what did your knight in shining armour do this time?”

jihoon sighs and rolled up his sleeve, allowing wonwoo to examine the evidence. “it’s nothing, really. he just gets rough sometimes.”

wonwoo whistles lowly. “you guys should really break up — that guy’s a fucked up one, that’s for sure.”

“nonetheless, he’s my boyfriend,” jihoon snaps, pulling his arm away, “so please don’t talk so much shit about him.”

wonwoo shrugs. “can’t run from the truth, jihoon. it’ll catch up with you one day and bite you in the ass — although, i think it already has.” he reaches out to probe where the bruise was but jihoon just smacks away his hand.

“i think i can manage my own life just fine,” he says. “now, i’m going to go suffer through sex ed with mrs. mae instead of staying out here with you blow-outs and getting detention.”

“i should go, too,” jisoo says, quickly standing up, “my mom’ll kill me if i miss one more class.”

“you’ve only missed one class,” mingyu says, raising his eyebrows.

_“exactly.”_

/

jihoon walks to hansol’s house after school, his stomach growling. he hasn’t eaten in two days, but he supposes he can go another one without passing out.

he walks into the chois’ house without knocking, having been there so many times. hansol’s mom walks into the hall as he takes his shoes off, a frown on her face. “you’ve lost so much weight,” she says, walking up to him and shaking her head. “what have your parents been feeding you?”

he shrugs. “fast metabolism, i guess.”

she squints at him. “you’re going to eat dinner here tonight, jihoon lee, mark my words.”

“i look forward to it,” he says dryly, beginning to make his way towards the basement stairs.

“you should stop being so sarcastic,” she says from behind him, tutting as she walks away. jihoon chuckles — hansol’s mom is like a second mom to him.

“yo,” hansol says from the couch, playing a video game on his too-big-tv. he gestures towards a bottle of coke zero on his desk. “help yourself — i got the zero calorie shit this time, the shit you like.”

jihoon pours himself and raises it to cheer his friend. “thanks, man.” he plops down on the couch. “didn’t go to school today?”

“school’s for the weak,” hansol says, pausing his game and turning to his friend.

“school’s for your future,” jihoon reasons, sipping on his coke.

hansol shrugs. “i’ll be dead by twenty-five, doesn’t matter much.”

jihoon punches him in the shoulder. “don’t talk like that, man. life’s not that bad.”

“says you.” hansol rolls his eyes and sinks into the couch, bangs falling into his face. “you still got that abusive motherfucker?”

“you mean seungcheol, my _boyfriend?”_ jihoon stresses the last word. “yes, we’re still together.”

“jisoo told me about what he did this time,” hansol says, his face sobering as he looks at his best friend. his eyes are a deep brown — jihoon likes to call them chocolate in his head. “that shit’s fucked up, jihoon. even you know that.”

“he was just angry,” jihoon reasons, feeling a buzz from his ass cheek. he reaches for his phone as hansol continues to talk.

“just because he’s angry doesn’t give him any reason to, what, _punch_ you? burn cigarettes out on you?”

hansol keeps going on but jihoon’s just staring at his phone screen, a single text burning into his eyes.

 

_i got fired. come to my place. - s_


	2. batshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungcheol hits hard. taemin's gonna have a party. wonwoo's an ass -- hansol rivals him in sarcasm. jihoon just wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, look at me, updating the next day. that's a first

jihoon has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. he’s standing across the street from seungcheol’s apartment building, just on the edge of the sidewalk, his toes hanging off into the road. seungcheol lives in a dingy part of the city, littered with homeless crackheads and almost-homeless hookers. some people would be disgusted by the trash on the ground, by the reeking smell of old booze, by the angry yelling that can constantly be heard. jihoon’s come to associate it all with home at this point, though. or at least a little fragment of home.

he walks out into the street, almost getting run over by a taxi but manoeuvring around it. when he gets into the building, he sees yoongi, the son of the building’s owner, sitting at reception, idly scrolling through his phone. he looks up at jihoon, face blank save for a small look of disappointment in his eyes. he knows why jihoon is here, and he knows why he’ll come down with bruises littering his skin, but he won’t say anything to anyone about it. jisoo likes to call this side of the city ‘the silence’, which is ominous but true — people over here won’t say anything, no matter what happens.

his hand reaches up to wave and yoongi returns the gesture, before going back to his phone. jihoon takes a breath before heading towards the staircase, counting the number of steps it takes to reach the fifth floor, room fifty-nine.

after knocking on the door, his hands won’t stop shaking. he bites his lip and shakes his head, mentally telling himself to stop being a pussy. he’s dealt with unhappy seungcheol countless times before; this wouldn’t be any different.

the door swings open. seungcheol is wearing a black leather jacket over his white t-shirt and jihoon bites his lip because _goddammit,_ he looks good and he hates it so much.

“you came,” he says simply, opening the door wider to let jihoon in, “i wasn’t sure if you would.”

jihoon gives him a smile. “of course i came — what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn’t?”

seungcheol studies his face for a second before moving forward quickly, sleek like a panther, and pinning jihoon against the wall. “i’ve missed you,” he says, his breath hot against jihoon’s skin.

“you saw me yesterday,” jihoon says quietly. he can feel seungcheol’s dick, pressed into the inside of his thigh, and looks down. “what do you want me to do for you?”

seungcheol bares his teeth, resembling a wolf. “i thought you’d never ask, baby.”

the first hit is always the worst and it comes ten minutes later, when they’re in seungcheol’s bedroom. jihoon’s clothes have been coaxed off his body and he shivers a bit when seungcheol aims for his rib. he doesn’t make a sound — he hasn’t done that after the first time — but an overwhelming sense of pain explodes beneath his skin and he fights his body to not hunch over.

after that, the hits numb his body more and more. he counts and announces mentally that he’ll have four new bruises the next day — four new bruises for jisoo to examine and shake his head at, four new bruises for wonwoo to sigh at, four new bruises for hansol to look at him in pity for. but he doesn’t mind, and seungcheol continues.

he can taste blood in his mouth when seungcheol slams him back into the wall, biting hard on his neck. he leaves behind hickeys that will be there for the next week, that he’ll have to cover with his sister’s foundation, but that’s okay. it’s all okay.

seungcheol fucks like an animal — rough, without remorse. jihoon stares blankly into the bed sheets beneath him, hearing seungcheol groan when he comes, collapsing next to him.

“i love you,” he says, and jihoon turns to look at him, pulling a bed sheet over their bodies.

“i love you, too,” jihoon says. he doesn’t mean it.

/

they eat ice cream for breakfast the next morning. jihoon is buried in seungcheol’s arms, his entire body aching. nothing has been mentioned about last night, and jihoon knows nothing ever will be. he wants to tell seungcheol that he thinks it’s wrong, that what he does isn’t okay. but seungcheol won’t listen, and the next time something goes awry, jihoon will be his punching bag.

so, jihoon enjoys the serenity, enjoys the feeling of seungcheol’s soft breathing. they’re on his couch, half-watching a children’s tv programme, and he feels a small kiss on his head.

“i meant it when i said that i love you,” he hears seungcheol say, voice rough from sleep.

“so did i,” jihoon lies easily, nestling into seungcheol’s side. “really.”

there was a time when he meant it, a time before all of this. a time when seungcheol took him on nice dates in little cafés on the other side of town, a time when their relationship was cuddling and slow sex and butterfly kisses. now he wonders if he’ll ever mean it again, but a part of him doubts it.

half an hour passes and jihoon looks at the rusty clock ticking above the tv. it’s half past ten and he knows that if he misses more school, the principal will come for his ass.

“i should go,” he says softly, “i have school.”

seungcheol kisses his cheek. “i’ll miss you.”

jihoon doesn’t reply, sliding through his arms and going to get his jacket. when he’s about to walk out the door, he sees the dark bruises littering his neck, wincing. he doesn’t have time to go home and use his sister’s makeup — he’ll just have to keep his collar up the whole day.

murmuring a goodbye, he slips through the door and walks down the stairs. yoongi is still at the reception, tapping a pen as he walks by.

“good morning,” he says simply.

jihoon smiles at him, pretending that he can’t see the older teenager’s eyes staring at his neck. he hitches up his shirt collar and says, “morning.”

the air outside is colder than the previous day and jihoon sighs, quickly hailing a taxi. he doesn’t have a lot of money but the school is far and his legs hurt too much, so he forks over whatever’s left in his wallet to the cabbie.

his school looks more like a prison, with washed out walls and small windows. he walks into the main hall, hands in his pockets as he heads to english. the hallways are empty as everyone’s in class, his footsteps sounding too loud.

jeonghan is in his english class. he can feel his stare when he sits down in front of him, most likely inspecting the bruises on the back of his neck.

he feels a tap on his back and jeonghan hands him a small, crumpled paper. on it, in messy handwriting, _are you okay?_ is written.

he turns around and nods slightly, before turning back to the english teacher.

four hours until his day ends. then he can go home and forget about everything.

/

“what the fuck,” are jisoo’s first words when jihoon slides into the spot next to him in the cafeteria.

“mingyu!” wonwoo gasps, turning to his boyfriend. “jisoo said his first swear word!”

jisoo smiles sarcastically at the couple before turning to jihoon. “but actually, _what the fuck?_ your collar isn’t doing anything to hide your neck — i can see the bruises. those are not normal hickeys.”

jihoon scratches the back of his neck. “he was just in a bad mood.”

“which is _exactly_ what you said yesterday,” mingyu drawls, eyebrows raised. “and every other day that you show up looking like you got in a fucking bar fight. i don’t understand why you don’t just break up with him.”

“it’s really not a healthy relationship that you guys have,” jeonghan says softly, voice high. “you can’t just continue pretending that everything is fine, jihoon — it’s obviously not.”

 _“and_ the tranny is actually right, for once,” wonwoo says, shaking his head, “we’re having a lot of firsts here today, people.”

“i told you to stop calling me that,” jeonghan says, his voice going sour.

“like i tell jihoon everyday,” wonwoo says with a shit-eating grin, “can’t run from the truth, or it’ll catch up with you and bite you in the ass.”

jihoon shakes his head. “jesus fucking christ, wonwoo. at least be a little respectable.”

“my boyfriend is respectable,” mingyu says, eyebrows raised, “yours it the one that isn’t.”

“can you guys please get off my ass about seungcheol? i’ll be fucking _fine.”_

jihoon feels a body slide down next to his and turns to see a familiar grin. “i see my favourite bitches still sit at the same table,” hansol says, propping his feet up.

“damn, hansol, haven’t seen you at school in at least a month,” wonwoo says, shaking his head. “finally decided to get your ass out of the asylum and come here, i guess.”

“bite me,” hansol says dryly, rolling his eyes. “i haven’t even been to the hospital in over a year. can’t say the same for you, wonwoo — your sociopathic tendencies could really use a shrink.”

mingyu reaches a hand over the table to slap hansol’s arm. “don’t bully him. he’s trying his best.”

“as am i,” he says, smiling, before turning to jihoon. “seungcheol being an ass again?”

“yeah.”

“i’m not surprised.”

“neither is anyone else.”

it goes silent for a second, the only other sounds being the chatter of the other students and jun’s loud music blaring from his headphones.

“so i heard that baekhyun is having a party tonight,” wonwoo says, breaking the silence, “there’s gonna be a lot of booze. anyone in?”

jeonghan looks at wonwoo in disgust. “baekhyun, as in the asshole senior that pissed on the school mascot’s costume in september?”

wonwoo grins. “that’s the one. he’s a pretty cool guy, once you get to know him.”

jeonghan rolls his eyes, muttering, “you’d be one to say that.”

ignoring him, wonwoo continues, “anyway, his parents have this giant house and like … everyone in the school is invited. except like, soonyoung. but who the fuck wants soonyoung at their party anyway.”

“soonyoung isn’t that bad,” jihoon says, rolling his shoulders, “he just has a bad rep.”

“a bad rep,” wonwoo snorts, “that kid stalks _everyone._ i wouldn’t be surprised if he has a picture of me shitting saved on that camera. being the one and only member of the school newspaper doesn’t mean that you have the right to be up in everyone else’s business.”

jihoon shrugs. “he’s just doing his job, wonwoo. give the kid a break.”

wonwoo waves his hand dismissively. “yeah, yeah. anyway, baekhyun's. tonight. you guys coming?”

“why not,” hansol says, leaning on his hands. “i need to get shit-faced, it helps deal with the depression.”

“you emo motherfucker,” wonwoo shakes his head. “anyone else coming?”

jihoon bites his lip. “maybe. i might go to seungcheol’s after school.”

“which means you’re definitely coming,” mingyu says, eyebrows raised. “no way in hell are you going to that abusive asshole’s house on a friday night. anyway, i’m gonna go to baekhyun's. i got a couple grams of cocaine from my friend after winning a bet, and i don’t really feel like snorting it all.”

“so you’re going to sacrifice your coke to a bunch of drunk teenagers,” hansol deadpans. “smart thinking, mingyu. you better give me a line, though.”

jisoo is shaking his head at the end of the table. “you guys need to go to church once in awhile, i swear. i don’t think i’ll come to baekhyun's, that’s really not my type of scene.”

“it’s not really mine, either,” jeonghan says, shaking his head. “but i might come. don’t feel like getting wasted, but that stoner guy taehyung will probably be there. he always gives me weed if i blow him.”

“isn’t his dick, like, the size of mount everest?” hansol says, squinting his eyes. “or so i’ve heard.”

jeonghan shrugs. “more or less, yeah.”

“that’s it,” jisoo says, standing up. “i’m going to go to the chapel and pray. you guys need jesus.”

as he walks away, wonwoo yells, “you’re one to talk, jisoo hong! i saw you wednesday night, and i _know_ that wasn’t water in your water bottle!”

jisoo raises a middle finger as he leaves, exiting the cafeteria. jihoon shakes his head, the bell ringing moments later.

“see you assholes after school,” hansol says, getting up, “come to my house and we can go to baekhyun's together.”

“what are we, a group of prissy girls?” wonwoo sneers.

“i’m the only one with a car.”

“… i’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love how my writing goes from Descriptive As Fuck, Poetic As Fuck, Ryan Ross As Fuck, to just ... sarcastic dialogue in 0.2 seconds


	3. hazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the crew goes to baekhyun's party, jihoon observes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has taken me, like, more than four months. i kind of forgot about this story
> 
> i'm sorry?

jihoon goes home and covers the bruises with concealer, the expensive colour-correcting shit his sister buys from sephora. she gives him a dirty look whenever he rustles through her makeup bag, but doesn’t say anything. the marks on his skin tell a story he won’t tell, but one that she knows.

the air is dusty on hansol’s street, the sunset a haze of light pinks and yellows. jihoon walks down the street like a zombie, jeonghan next to him, examining his hair in a compact mirror.

“do you think i should cut it?” he asks, glancing over at jihoon. “will it look more masculine? also, can you see my breasts through this shirt? bandages aren’t good for binding.”

jihoon sighs. “your hair looks great, jeonghan, and it always has — masculine or feminine. and i can’t see anything, don’t worry. you look as manly as they come.”

jeonghan smiles softly at him. “you’re a good guy, jihoon. seungcheol doesn’t deserve you.”

“yet we’re still together,” jihoon says, sighing again. “will you please just let it go? i can deal with my own shit.”

shaking his head, jeonghan doesn’t reply. the door of hansol’s house is open so they stroll in, immediately hearing wonwoo’s hyena laughter coming from the basement.

“you motherfucker!” they hear hansol yell, but he’s laughing. when they get down to the basement, jihoon raises his eyebrows, as hansol all-but resembles eminem, yellow-blond hair sitting on his head.

“what the fuck?” jeonghan says, although he’s giggling. “what happened?”

“this asshole put bleach in my fucking conditioner,” hansol says, falling back into a worn armchair.

“not my fault you leave your conditioner in for forty-five minutes,” wonwoo says, bent over from laughter. “you look like fucking david bowie.”

“don’t insult my main man,” jun says lazily from the sofa, glancing up at them, “he was better than anything you guys’ll ever be.”

“he speaks!” hansol exclaims, crawling over to jun. “i’ve missed that voice, man. you sound like a fucking grandma.”

jun smiles and pushes hansol slightly, before putting his headphones back on. mingyu is engulfed in a video game on the tv and jihoon sits next to him, watching as he shoots the miniature people. sometimes he wonders what mingyu would do if the people on the screen were real. maybe he’d continue. seungcheol probably would.

“so, should we head to baekhyun’s?” jeonghan asks, taking a sip from a can of sprite (jihoon doubts it’s actually sprite). “or is someone else coming?”

“my friend seokmin is supposed to show,” mingyu says, “hansol said he’d give him a ride — he’s the one who gave me the coke.”

 _“seokmin lee_ gave you the coke?” wonwoo asks in disbelief. “i never would have guessed that that guy would be a druggie — thought he spent all his time jacking off alone in his room.”

mingyu grins at his boyfriend. “he spends his time jacking off alone in his room, _high on coke.”_

wonwoo nods understandingly.

when seokmin arrives, they all pile into hansol’s mustang, the roof pulled down. jihoon sits on the far left, mingyu and wonwoo cuddled next to him. they’re speaking to each other in hushed voices, laughing every once in awhile — jihoon sighs because he knows he’ll never have that.

baekhyun’s house is like a fortress in the middle of a suburban neighbourhood. jihoon can hear the music from down the street and sighs, wondering what he’s gotten into. mingyu nudges him and hands him a small bottle of vodka; he takes a swig, burning his throat and coughing.

they get inside and everyone scatters, heading to the booze or weed or random-hot-person-who-looks-like-they-could-fuck. jihoon stands outside in the grass, staring at the castle in front of him, a hand scratching the back of his head. maybe he’ll get drunk — so drunk that he can forget about everything that’s happened, to the point where he’s puking on the lawn, coughing up blood because there’s no food in his stomach. maybe.

he goes into the foyer, littered with silly string and empty solo cups and screaming people. one girl is bent over a dresser, a shattered vase cutting into the feet of the guy behind her, groaning so loudly it’s almost comical; jihoon turns away.

grabbing a solo cup filled with anything, he takes a sip, an array of flavours exploding in his throat, burning it. the whole cup is enough to get him tipsy, so he walks around, swaying slightly as trap music pounds in his ears, sliding into them like a small worm, nestling in the back of his mind. he doesn’t mind its company.

the living room is a mess — jeonghan is on the couch, talking to the kid with the mountain dick, a bong nestled between them. jeonghan looks soft, hair pinned back and lips curving into a smile as he smiles — like a van gogh painting, eyes the stars from starry night, body the scenery. the other kid, the one with the mountain dick, _taehyung,_ has a wild smile, wide eyes and milky skin. he sinks further into the couch, one hand reaching up to touch jeonghan’s face; jihoon turns away.

he finds mingyu and wonwoo in the bathroom, another guy between the two of them. jihoon vaguely recognises his face — jinyoung, junior, hangs out with the jocks that aren’t as rude as wonwoo, the ones that crush up molly and put it in their water bottles, drinking it all day long as they laugh their asses off.

neither of his friends can see him, bodies turned away as they simultaneously slam into the smaller teenager. said teenager makes eye contact with him, has the audacity to flush; jihoon turns away.

hansol has made his home in one of the bedrooms, talking animatedly with seungkwan, the baggie of coke sitting on the sheets, now half-empty. jihoon knows seungkwan just because, after jihoon, he’s probably hansol’s closest friend — met in the hospital, proceeded to bond over music. seungkwan is always there for hansol when jihoon can’t be — he’s always felt slightly jealous about that, always resented the guy. but now, standing there in the doorway, mind fuzzy from the alcohol, he can’t help but feel a bit childish. hansol needs people, needs a constant hum of conversation to keep him going — if seungkwan can offer that, who is he to judge?

the two continue to talk, eventually ending in hansol sloppily pinning the other teenager to the bed. their tongues find each other’s mouths, but they’re both laughing; jihoon turns away.

as he walks through the labyrinth that is baekhyun’s house, he recognises most of the people, seeing as most of them are from his school. he finds jackson, one of the molly-jocks, approximately seven girls piled on him. baekhyun sits in the middle of all the chaos, a satisfied smile on his face as a girl kisses his neck — his friends are circled around him, rolling blunts and talking. he recognises all of them — the popular kids of the school, chanyeol and sehun and kyungsoo and jongin and jongdae and yixing and junmyeon and minseok and he really can’t help but think that there’s way too many popular kids in his school.

he makes his way into the kitchen for another drink and is surprised to see a familiar frame leaning against the counter, talking to someone on the other side. mint green hair, alabaster skin, veiny fingers scratching the back of a smooth neck, yoongi.

grabbing a beer, he hesitates, wondering if he should talk to the other or not — his mind is made up, though, when yoongi ends his conversation and turns around, eyebrows raising as he makes eye contact with jihoon.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” is jihoon’s first question. “this is a high school party.”

yoongi cracks a smile, sinking further against the counter. “my step-brother came here, i dropped him off and decided to look around. his name’s kunpimook, maybe you know him?” he pauses, eyebrows furrowing. “i think he goes by bambam or some shit, insists his name is _too hard_ for anyone to pronounce.”

jihoon racks his brain — bambam. _bambam._ oh.

“your step-brother is a molly-jock?” he blurts. yoongi looks at him, confusion clouding his eyebrows as his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. jihoon immediately corrects himself, “i mean, yeah, yeah. i know bambam.”

yoongi nods slowly, taking a beer for himself and popping it open. “this doesn’t really seem to be your scene,” he says, gesturing towards the circus around them, “so what are _you_ doing here?”

jihoon hasn’t really heard yoongi talk a lot — only the few _good morning_ s or _goodnight_ s. his voice is slow, monotonous, a bit like a record that’s already ended, going on and on. he kind of likes it, though.

“my friends dragged me,” he says, taking a sip from his beer and frowning, “it really isn’t my scene, you’re right. i’m probably gonna leave soon.”

“wanna come with me?” yoongi says casually. jihoon chokes a bit, beer spluttering from his mouth and landing on the dirty tile floor.

“uh,” he begins, eyebrows scrunching, “where?”

yoongi shrugs. “anywhere’s better than here. my place is free, roommate’s gone — we could drink in the comfort of a terrible mess of a flat instead of house.”

jihoon finds himself saying yes.

/

 

yoongi’s flat isn’t as messy as baekhyun’s house, jihoon finds out. there’s various guitars everywhere, a little mixing station tucked into the corner, two computers set up on the dining table surrounded by various empty bottles of booze — it’s a nicer mess, though, a homier one. it feels more lived in than baekhyun’s temporary mess.

“welcome to my humble abode,” yoongi says, spreading his arms dramatically before disappearing into the small kitchen and reappearing with two opened heinekens. he hands one to jihoon before sinking into the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “feel free to make yourself at home.”

jihoon does, nestling into a heavy, crocheted blanket and taking a drink from his beer. “so, what do you wanna do?”

yoongi shrugs. “talk, watch tv, whatever. you can decide if you want.”

“let’s just talk,” jihoon says after awhile, sinking deeper into the couch, “you choose the topic.”

“okay.” yoongi turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “why do you go out with such a dick?”

jihoon frowns — he isn’t sure what he had expected, but that wasn’t it. “another topic.”

“no.” yoongi’s tone is final. “you said i could choose, this is what i choose. we’ve never really talked before but the way your relationship works isn’t really inconspicuous. sure, maybe you’re just kinky, but the way you shrink down and try to cover the bruises really seems to be something more. something abusive.”

“i just,” jihoon waves his free hand, trying to express the feelings in his brain, “it’s not that bad. honestly. he gets angry, and it’s alright.”

yoongi scoffs, turning away. “sure. alright. i doubt that, you know? i really fucking doubt that.”

“it’s really none of your business, anyway,” jihoon finds himself saying, voice getting louder, “you can’t just, you can’t just fucking _ask_ about that shit, when we hardly even know each other. it’s fucking, i don’t know, not common courtesy or some shit.”

“i really don’t give a shit about common courtesy,” yoongi says, rolling his eyes and taking a long drink from his beer.

“then maybe i shouldn’t be here,” jihoon says, his lips pulling into a frown as he wrestles with the blanket, wanting to get out. he heads for the door, but yoongi stops him, hand wrapping around his forearm.

they stare at each other for a few seconds, jihoon’s eyes wide, yoongi’s heavy. a minute passes and none of them say anything, before yoongi brings him closer, swallowing him in a long kiss.

jihoon can only manage a small, “oh,” when they pull apart; he doesn’t turn away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i have no idea where this is going. honestly, i feel like jihoon is kind of wrapped up in his relationship with seungcheol so much that he believes it's honest-to-god alright, so uh ... we'll see how he feels about yoongi after the night is over
> 
> also _jinyoung, junior_ i laughed too much when i wrote that 
> 
> also of course exo is the popular kids ... tbh i'm not much of an exo-l, but like, they've always seemed so Up There i couldn't help myself

**Author's Note:**

> this whole story is a mistake


End file.
